


Riptide

by BullySquadess



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: ///rubs gay little hands all over new characters, Beach fic, F/M, Nothing TOO spicy, also cursing, also oops i found a new wlw pairing to add to my hoard???, first voltron fic yall!, rating for little bits of flirtiness throughout, vldexchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 17:23:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15320460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BullySquadess/pseuds/BullySquadess
Summary: "But Lance wasn’t a riptide. He wasn’t a force beyond her control. Allura could easily stop this if she wanted to, break free of his pull and paddle towards shore. She was strong, stronger than she’d been the last time, and she knew Lance wouldn’t prevent her from swimming away. He’d given her that power, that knowledge to do so, but Allura was tired of treading water against a current she never truly wanted to fight."Post season 6 beach fic written for Breeeliss during the Allurance summer exchange!





	Riptide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [breeeliss](https://archiveofourown.org/users/breeeliss/gifts).



> It figures my first piece of writing for this ship would be for the person who hauled me aboard. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> Hope you enjoy it darling <3

Three weeks.

Three whole weeks they’d been traveling now.

Or, at least, that’s what it felt like to Lance. Time was finicky in space. Each planet, each civilization, seemed to have its own measure of time, and every system was _just_ different enough from the others that universal time-keeping was impossible. The lack of a day/night cycle further hindered the process, but by couting the number of knotted muscles in his back, Lance figured he must have slept at least twenty times since the beginning of their cross-galaxy journey, sprawled out in Red’s cockpit as he used Kaltenecker as a makeshift body pillow.

Point of order: Travelling in an enclosed space with what was essentially a manure-producing machine? Not fun. Not fun at all. Terrible, actually. Would not recommend. Lance would kill to be back on Blue, kicking it with the Altean crew. Or hanging out with Pidge or Hunk aboard their respective lions. Hell, he’d even taking hitching a ride on the Black Lion while Keith and Shiro spent hours gazing deeply into each other eyes or whatever the fuck those two did when they were together. Anything besides this Old McDonald hell dimension.

He missed the Castle of Lions. He missed his bunk. But more than anything he missed warp jumping. _Oh_ how he missed crossing vast chunks of the universe in mere seconds! Oh how he’d taken it for granted. The Lions… Well, the Lions were by no means _slow_ , but space was big.

Like, really stupid big.

And so, after many _many_ hours spent slouched in his pilot’s chair, ignoring the ever-present scent of farm animal as he tortured his fellow paladins with a weeks-long game of “Would You Rather?”, Lance nearly sobbed in joy when Coran announced they’d have to stop somewhere to replenish supplies.

“According to my maps, there’s a carbon-based planet just a few parsecs ahead,” Coran said, his face popping up alongside the others’ on Red’s dashboard. A moment later, he was joined by a map, in the center of which was a marker flagging a small cluster of celestial bodies. “Records indicate plant and aquatic life, so the atmosphere is most likely breathable. I’m also seeing signs of advanced civilization and commerce. Plus it’s more-or-less on our flight trajectory towards earth!”

“Wait, I know this place,” Allura said excitedly, elbowing her way into the frame and dragging her fingers to zoom in on the hologram. The image of a pristine blue-green planet, flocked by a trio of orange stars and ringed with a pure-white cloud belt, popped into focus, slowly spinning in it’s lazy orbit. “Yes! This must be Weekiwa! I can see Heartstone Island!”

She zoomed further, displaying vast stretches of pale pink sand and water as blue as the eyes Lance felt pop from his head.

“Whoa, is that a space beach?” he marvelled, suddenly sitting up from his slouch.

“Father used to take me here on holidays,” Allura recalled, her voice fond. She flicked her wrist and the 3-d image expanded once more, showing Weekiwa and its surrounding bodies. “It’s a small, serene planet, with vast oceans and beautiful jungles.”

“Sounds good to me,” Lance quipped, groaning a bit as he stretched. There was an audible crack as he bent forward to touch his toes, working out the many kinks he’d gotten from their prolonged sky trip. “It’s been ages since I've just kicked back, caught some sun, maybe committed a bit of arson. I’m in!”

“A vacation does sound-”  Hunk stopped mid-thought, squinting into his dashboard. “Wait… What was the last bit?”

Lance rolled his eyes, waving a vague hand. “Pssshhh, you _know_. Dancing around a roaring bonfire, running when the bonfire becomes a beach fire, getting in serious legal trouble with the Fire Marshall- normal summertime stuff!”

“On what planet?” Hunk asked, incredulous. Beneath his image, similarly hunched over in her own pilot’s chair, Pidge was snickering.

“V-Town, baby! Vacation capital of the _galaxy._ And don’t worry big guy, your ol buddy Lance is gunna curate the perfect beach-going experience for you. I’m talking sandals off, folding chair in the sand, and all the shaved ice you can eat.”

“Oh man,” Hunk said, his face melting into a far-off expression of joy. “That sounds pretty perfect right about now…”

“And Pidge,” Lance continued, “I’m not sure what kind of plant and animal life this space beach is gunna have, but we could totally find out.”

Pidge’s eyes lit up, her glasses nearly toppling as she scrambled to sit up straight. “I’ve always wanted to survey another planet’s eco-zoological makeup- the biodiversity must be off the charts! Imagine if we found fossilised remains of the planet’s ancient inhabitants. Then I could create a rough timeline of climate events that affected the native organisms’ morphology and track their migrations via evolutionary patterns!”

Lance shot her double finger guns. “That's the spirit! And hey, we might even find pretty shells to put on necklaces.”

“Oh!” Allura gasped, her hands clasped in excitement. “Necklaces made from shells? That sounds darling! May I participate?”

“Here we go,” Pidge muttered, watching as Lance’s expression went from mega-watt smile to half-lidded smolder in under a second.

“Princess,” he purred, pouring every ounce of allure he had in the glance he threw her way, “I would comb a thousand beaches to find shells worthy to adorn your neck~”

From the corner of his eye, Lance could see the way Pidge and Hunk teased him, launching into an elaborate pantomime that included a flexing Pidge, a swooning Hunk, and copious amounts of obnoxious air kisses from them both, but none of that mattered to him. Because Allura was smiling- no, _beaming_ at his words, her eyes lit up in a way that made his heart feel like it was going to burst out of his chest.

(He’d done that! He’d made her smile like that!)

“Thank you Lance, but I don’t think that’s necessary,” Allura giggled through her grin. “From what I remember, Weekiwa is full of all manner of sea life, especially mollusks.” Here, her cheery expression faltered. “I can only hope it has remained that way…”

Coran, still seated behind her, held up a finger, furiously scrolling his holo-projector. “Intel indicates the planet is fertile enough to sustain life, but contains no precious minerals or strategic resources. It’s inhabitants are simple, seafaring folk. Doesn’t seem the type of place to attract Galra attention.”

“Perfect!” Lance said, clapping his hands before rubbing them together. “Vacation planned! Hunk gets sun time, Pidge gets snorkeling, Allura gets her shell necklace, and Shiro-”

“Nap,” Shiro interjected from his spot beside Keith. Almost begged, really. “Please. I just want a few hours to nap.”

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just spend like a year napping?”

“He wasn't napping you moron,” Keith snapped. “His spirit was trapped in the Black Lion!”

“Trapped napping, maybe,” Lance muttered beneath a cough.

“Are you being serious right now? Shiro _died!_ ”

“So did I. It happens.”

Keith git his teeth. “Lance-”

“Keith,” Shiro interrupted, laying a large hand atop aforementioned paladin’s shoulder. “There’s no need to argue.” He conjured a smile, tired as it was. “We’re on vacation, remember?”

“Yeah Keith,” Lance echoed, missing or perhaps ignoring the eyes narrowed in his direction. “Stop worrying so much! I’ll make sure Shiro gets the nicest fluffiest beach towel laid out in the perfect patch of shade and I won't let anyone stress him out even a bit.”

Shiro nodded appreciatively. “Thank you Lance.”

Two more finger guns shot his way. “You got it, Grandpa.”

“Don’t push it,” Shiro grumbled, fingers toying at the ends of his snowy white hair.

(If anyone saw the way Keith swallowed a grin, there was no mention.)

 

* * *

 

It took them only a couple of vargas to reach their destination, the Lions touching down on the outskirts of a village settlement and rousing much attention in the process. People flocked from their homes to investigate the intrusion, but once it was made obvious they were not being invaded, many returned to their daily goings-about, leaving only a few locals behind to answer questions and point their crew in the right direction.

The inhabitants of Weekiwa were an amphibious race, with webbed feet and lithe gills to accommodate a life spent both underwater and on land, but most seemed to prefer one biome over the other. When Team Voltron visited the planet’s main trading post, tucked into a large clearing dwarfed but the massive palm jungle surrounding it, Lance saw merchants with dark cerulean to deep green skin tones, their eyes set wide and their tales slender enough to be used as a third dexterous limb. In contrast, those he saw when their group met with the planet’s leadership on the shores of their underwater capitol sported paler, almost translucent blue/green skin, their eyes set farther forward and their tails wide enough to help propel them through the water.

Regardless of this, everyone they’d come across had been accommodating enough. Traders took their business like any other and the high council (who’d heard talk of Voltron and their fight against the Galra) extended their sincerest welcome to the paladins, granting their request for asylum and even offering use of the quarters usually reserved for visiting dignitaries and other esteemed guests. From there came talks of the rebellion, swapping of information and such, but luckily the business was kept brief. Up until that point Weekiwa had remained un-involved in galaxy-wide affairs, having flown mostly under the Galra radar, but even they knew their humble planet was not immune to invasion. The decision to align themselves under the Volton banner was unanimous, and Princess Allura thanked the council profusely for their kindness, promising a brief stay and unwavering protection for the people of Weekiwa, should they ever need it.

By the time their group reached their lodgings for the night- a massive, beautifully constructed bungalow of wood and reed that sat mere paces from the sandy shore -everyone was dead on their feet. Between shopping for provisions, attending to matters of politics, and finding a proper place to park their lions, the sight of real beds waiting for them inspired everything from vocal celebration to tears of relief. Rooms, more than enough for everyone to get their own, were quickly claimed, and the building fell dark and silent within the hour.

 

* * *

 

Dawn came early, arriving with a pink-tinted sunlight that gently roused the bungalow’s occupants from their slumber.

It was odd, Lance thought, not waking to the shrill alarm of his dashboard. Not finding himself surrounded by the same star-streaked darkness that persisted in open space. Not working through the kinks in his neck as he prepared for another fifteen hour stretch of piloting. Instead he’d been awoken by the sound of waves hitting shore, his head nestled against an honest-to-God pillow and his body curled up beneath a soft blanket. He’d gotten up and dressed at his own pace, exiting his room to find the dining area had already been laid out with a delicious spread of various fruits, nuts, and seafood- actual, edible, only slightly alien-looking food! Delighted, Lance ate with a fervor that rivaled even Hunk’s, clearing two heaping plates in record time and declaring it the best meal he’d ever eaten.

(He’d beg forgiveness of his mother for that later.)

“So!” Coran announced, wiping at his mustache as the others seated around the table finished up their meal, “How are we feeling team? Well rested and ready to continue on, I hope?”

Eyes darted in quiet turmoil. Pidge fiddled with the exploration gear she’d unpacked specifically for today’s planned excursion. Hunk cradled a basket of bread to his chest as if afraid it might be cruelly ripped away. Shiro looked ready to sprint back to his bedroom and barricade himself in.

Allura cleared her throat. “Coran. Are you _certain_ our business here is concluded?”

“Certain as certain can be, Princess! I’ve purchased all the necessary provisions we need to keep us afloat until we reach Earth and then some. All that’s left is to inspect the lions and get back to our flight path!”

“But… what about the beach?” Lance nearly whined, gazing wantonly out the large window that led to the water’s edge.

“And the valuable research opportunities,” Pidge added.

“My nap,” Shiro murmured, “I just want my nap.”

“Coran,” Keith began, using his special “Leader of Voltron” voice. He stood, bracing a hand on the back of Shiro’s chair. “I know it’s important for us to get back to Earth as soon as possible. Trust me, I know what’s at stake here. But don’t you think we could all use a bit of a break? The Weekiwains were kind enough to offer their hospitality. We might as well make use of this time to _really_ recharge. Get our strength back up for the trip ahead of us.”

All around the room heads nodded in agreement, voices murmuring their pleas for just one more night. Coran looked thoughtful.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he finally spoke, causing a ripple of relief to spread amongst those at the table. “It’s been too long since we’ve engaged in morale-boosting activities. Why, perhaps I’ll set up some team-building exercises to-”

Coran wasn’t even close to finishing the thought before everyone was moving: stacking dishes, ducking down hallways, and spouting various excuses as to why they couldn’t join. Even Allura shot him an apologetic look as she skittered off to her quarters, suggesting perhaps they would find ways to team-build at the beach. Lance, for his part, wasted no time. After donning his swim trunks (which had been miraculously supplied alongside his pajamas and armor when he’d first become a paladin) he no less than sprinted to the beach, ploughing headlong into the water before anyone else had even set foot outside of the bungalow. There came an indescribable calmness with the feeling of being enveloped by the waves. A sense of familiarity and belonging that seemed to wash away the stress of the last... _however long_ he’d spent galavanting around space.

The sensation of home.

Of course, Lance knew, all too keenly, that he wasn't home. Oh yes, the pink of the sand, the three suns in the sky, and the otherworldly fish that fled his gentle strokes were all very stark reminders of this. There was no music drifting from the shore; Old tunes blaring crackily through his uncle’s ancient boombox or more recent pop hits floating through his best friend’s bluetooth speaker. There was no smell of sunscreen, nor subtle scent of cooking meats wafting from the nearby street vendors. Even the air felt different somehow, heavier. Yet it was just so easy for Lance to close his eyes and float on his back, bobbing on the waves as he pretended he was back in Varadero- the place his bratty teenage self been so eager to leave and the place he now missed more than anything else.

Stupid. He’d been so stupid to think he was “too good to stay trapped in his hometown”. Not even out of high school and already running off to play pilot at the Galaxy Garrison. How fucking naive was that? He should have known-

Lance shook his head, ducking his face under water before resurfacing with a snort. No! Nope! Not even going there! He could beat himself up over his past choices all he wanted but that wasn’t going to change a thing. Today was _not_ about being homesick, today was about fun and enjoyment and recharging his battery so he’d be plenty energized when he finally did get back to earth.

“Last one in is a rotten Scarleyck!”

Lance turned at the raucous call, grinning as he watched Hunk and Pidge pound their way across the beach. Pidge was fast, nimble atop the sand, but Hunk had brute power on his side, which he made use of by snatching the smaller paladin around her waist and flinging her squaling self backwards when she approached the shoreline.

“You dirty cheat!” Pidge yelled, burrowing through the sand to locate her missing glasses.

“No laws on the Space Beach!” Lance crowed, bumping fists with Hunk as he waded out to where Lance bobbed along. Having also grown up by the seaside, Hunk cut through the waves with a similar ease- the mark of someone who’d learned to swim before they’d learned to talk. Conversely, it took Pidge a bit longer to reach them, but she wasted no time in dunking both young men’s heads under water when she did so.

At this point most everyone else had made their way outside, spreading across the beach to set up their little vacation station. Shiro was already shirtless and gleaming, the very picture of masculine goodness as he stood broad-shouldered atop a dune. Of course that picture didn’t last, because as soon as he spotted the vacant hammock strung between two palm trees the man was moving towards the bit of rope and net as if it were his lover. Nearby ( _God, did he ever stop hovering?’_ ) Keith was absently throwing a piece of driftwood for his freaky little space wolf to fetch, pouting slightly when his mother slipped a towel over his already reddening shoulders. The Altean trio looked to be setting up a canopy of some kind, wrestling with poles and gossamer fabric as it flapped in the wind.

(Well, Allura and Romelle were setting it up at least. Coran looked like he was weaving himself into an unwilling cocoon of misplaced drapery.)

Even Kaltenecker seemed to be enjoying herself, grazing along the grassy edge of the beach. Happy to be out in the fresh air again, no doubt.

Meanwhile, Lance was in his element. Literally. Each moment he spent in the water seemed to fill an imaginary little fuel meter in his head, slowly nudging the needle from E to F. He splashed, swam, and joked with his fellow paladins for the better part of an hour, even coaxing Keith past the shoreline to join them for a game of chicken, and by the time the trio of suns had migrated to the center of the sky they were all wearing permanent grins.

Eventually, Hunk excused himself to find a hammock of his own, and Keith was quick to follow.This left two playful and prune-y paladins chasing each other through the surf until the siren call of the jungle and the secrets it held beckoned them back to dry land. Pidge and Lance wandered, barefoot and wide-eyed through the undergrowth, the latter marveling at every every new leaf and bug she discovered while the former tried is best to keep said leaves and bugs out of his hair. Every corner yielded new sights, new sounds, and- _hooray hooray!_ \- sharp things to step on, but each new bend they discovered was an adventure itself.

Once Pidge was satisfied by the information she’d gathered on the planet’s terrarium-based flora and fauna, she insisted on grabbing their helmets (which they’d long since discovered still worked without the rest of their paladin armor attached) and inspecting the seabed for any aquatic specimens that could add to her findings. Which, for the record, Lance was more than willing to join her in doing! Sure, he wasn't super interested in categorizing algae subspecies, but Pidge was, so he would gladly scrape rocks alongside her. Besides, there had to be some cool fish down there right? Maybe a few nice shells he could polish up and present to a certain sunbathing Princess...

Turns out, he wasn’t even needed.

“Pidge!”

The call rang out just as the pair reached the water’s edge, helmets in hand and poised to dive. Both turned, watching as the newest addition to their rag-tag group jogged somewhat clumsily towards them through the sand. Like most of the team, Romelle had opted to don one of the many swim outfits they’d found stored at the bungalow for guest use. Her particular unitard was a striking aqua color, made of a shimmering fabric that began high on the neck and clung practically tight to her body before ending mid-thigh; Like someone had cut the arms and legs off a wetsuit and finished the raw edges with ruffles. It suited ( _“ha!”_ ) her nicely Lance thought,

“Hey Roe,” Pidge greeted, her voice pitching just a mite higher than usual. Lance glanced at his friend from the corner of his eye, noticing her cheeks were a shade darker than her sun-kissed shoulders.

(Just like he’d noticed Romelle  had switched from travelling with Allura and Coran aboard Blue to flying in the Green Lion a few stops back…)

_‘Oh, this should be good.’_

“What are you up to?” Romelle asked, eyeing their helmets with a polite curiosity.

Pidge cleared her throat. “Well, we-”

“ _Pidge_ was just about to go explore the reefs!” Lance interrupted, tossing one arm around the shorter paladin. “She’s really smart you know. Always learning new things in new places. One of the many things that makes her awesome and also single. Hey! How about you go with her?”.

“You mean underwater?” Romelle asked, sweeping the ocean with an un-readable look. Lance could feel Pidge bristling beneath him, yet he kept his smile easy

“Yup! And don’t worry, it’s perfectly safe. Pidge is super strong and could probably save you from anything. Did I mention she’s single...?”

“Lance,” a now tomato-Pidge ground between her teeth, and if looks could kill he’d be six feet under. “She doesn’t want-”

“I’d love to!” Romelle squealed, startling them both. Seeming to realize her outburst, she shrugged, tucking a stray lock of ashy blonde blonde hair behind her pointed (rapidly reddening) ear. “I mean… i-if that’s okay?”

“That’s great!” Lance interjected, before Pidge did something… well, _Pidge-like_ to ruin his work. “Here, take my helmet. You got it? Perfect. Now, let me just set up a personal voice comm with Pidge’s helmet and… done!” Lance lightly tapped at his helmet, careful not to startle the wide-eyed girl within it, and winked broadly. “There, now you two have complete privacy to talk about _anything you want._ ”

At this point Pidge looked ready to maul him, and Lance almost wondered if he’d gone too far, but luckily for him Romelle chose that moment to link her arm with Pidge’s, transforming the entirety of that fury into pure Gay Panic. In the end, he got off with little more than a mouthed _“I will kill you for this”_ from the Green Paladin before she was whisked away by her nearly-vibrating companion, and Lance watched, his expression somewhere between a smile and a smirk as the two disappeared beneath the water. For all her ribbing at his “girl crazy” tendencies, turns out Pidge was just as bad as he was when it came to crushes.

Speaking of…

Just up the beach, situated atop a gentle sand dune, sat the canopy he’d seen Coran wrestling with earlier. Though it was little more than a length of gossamer fabric help up by four large posts, it still managed to look elegant as it fluttered in the breeze, and seemed to be keeping the blowing out quite well. The shapes inside were fuzzy from this distance, but Lance just knew Allura must be in there. He had a sixth sense for these kinds of things. So off he went, in search of the one person he’d been looking forward to beaching it up with the most.

Unfortunately, Lance had nowhere _near_ braced himself for the image of a sunbathing Allura, and his first glimpse of her laid out and preening like the goddess she was nearly gutted him.

Her top had the same high collar design as Romelle’s, functionally fit around the neck and chest while leaving the arms and shoulders exposed. The only difference was Allura’s cut off at the ribs, exposing a toned slice of abdomen adorned with crescent designs not unlike those on the apples of her cheeks, and Lance nearly face-planted in the sand at the sight. He couldn’t tell if her skin had darkened in the pseudo-sun or her altean markings had lightened, but either way the shapes stood out in stunning contrast to her complexion, making for a very _very_ distracting picture. Add onto that the slip of thigh he could just barely see poking out from behind her sarong and old Sharpshooter McClain was a goner.

“Lance!” Allura called out upon seeing him approach, waving cheerfully from her sprawled out position. Her hair was wild and stirred wonderfully when even the slightest breeze touched it, just begging to be stroked. Or combed.

~~Perhaps pulled if she were into that sort of thing.~~

“What’s kickin, Princess?” Lance greeted, using every bit of willpower he had to peel his eyes from Allura to address the noticeably less ethereal Altean beside her. “Coran.”

Both of the canopy’s occupants greeted him with a friendly nod, Allura continuing on to compliment their lovely slice of beach while Coran recounted his glorious battle with said canopy. Lance told some anecdotes about his and Pidge’s time in the jungle, which then led to the three of them gossiping about her apparent affinity for Romelle, and eventually there came a lull in the conversation. Coran excused himself to return to his book, leaving Lance and Allura to their own devices.

“Soooo…”  Lance drawled, not at all flexing as he leaned against one of the canopy’s bamboo support rods. Nope. Not even a little bit. “You been in the ocean yet? Water feels great.”

Allura shook her head, further jostling her curls. “No, not yet. Though I’m glad to see you and the other paladins having fun out there.”

“Shame you couldn’t join us,” Lance said mildly, those inner gears turning. He snapped his fingers, as if struck with a sudden idea, and grinned. “Say... how about we take a dip? Just the two of us. I saw lots of great shells a few yards out. Maybe we could dive down and start working on that necklace you wanted?”

Allura’s face fell unexpectedly, her teeth darting out to snare her bottom lip. "That’s kind of you to offer Lance, really. I’m just... um…” Her prismatic eyes flicked to the water, almost fearful. “N-not the biggest fan of swimming.”

“That’s totally cool,” Lance rushed to assure her, feeling Allura's distress wash over him like a tangible thing. “There’s still all kinds of stuff we can do together on land! I saw a few shimmery rocks over by the cliff’s edge-” He turned to point at said cliff. “-if you want to dig around there. Or I could dig around while you relax or we could just take a walk and see if we spot anything or you could stay here while I go get the shells and bring them-”

“Eep!”

Lance stiffened at the muffled gasp. Almost a sob. He turned back around, his heart dropping to his knees as he spotted Allura’s shoulders begin to shake, the bottom half of her face hidden by her hand.

“Oh no oh shit,” he whisper-swore, making as if to kneel down and comfort her. “What’s wrong? What did I do?”

“Lance,” Allura snorted, removing her hand to show it was laughter she was trying to contain, rather than tears. “Y-you…”

She twirled her fingers, motioning him to turn, and Lance (though puzzled) obeyed. Seconds later, he felt a sharp tug on his back, followed by a loud pop that had him swivelling back around in panic.

“What was-” Lance’s eyes nearly popped from their sockets. “ _Holy quiznak what is that thing?!”_

“I believe it’s a E. Polyplussus Emberium,” Coran interjected, sitting up from his recline to study the squishy blob monster Allura held. Just held it! Like it was a kitten or something! “A fairly common genus of cephalopod native to this star system. Totally harmless, but somewhat clingy.”

“Harmless?!” Lance screeched, frantically rubbing at the red patch on his back. “It tried to kill me!”

“Aw, she just wanted to be your friend,” Allura cooed, practically nuzzling the damn thing against her cheek. It raised one tiny tendril to squish against her nose, but Allura, still giggling, simply batted the appendage away before it had time to suction on. “I used to call them sea-squishers when I was a girl. They really are quite sweet.”

“How can you call it sweet? It tried to latch onto my perfect handsome muscular beach bod!”

Allura snickered, muttering something that _would’ve_ sounded like “can you blame her?” if it had been anyone else speaking. But it wasn’t anyone else, so Lance figured he must just have too much salt water in his ears to hear properly. That, or he was getting sun sickness. Or maybe the little octopus demon had pumped him full of a toxin that made him hallucinate flirtations from the object of his affections. Either way, he didn’t dwell on it.

(...Much.)

“I’d better get this sweet baby back home,” Allura announced, ducking out from under the canopy.

Lance extended a hand to help her up, his chivalry just barely outweighing the disgust he felt for the squishy lump still cradled in her arms, and Allura nodded her thanks. He even escorted her to the seaside, where she gently set the creature down at the edge of the tide. It sat there for a moment, pulsing oddly, before sprouting three more tendrils and scampering back into the water.

“I am never going back in there,” Lance spoke through a shiver, watching the blob disappear.

Eyebrow quirking, Allura turned to him with a hum. “Oh? That’s too bad,” she sighed, those thick eyelashes batting in the most distracting way. "I was _so_ hoping you’d be willing to dive down and fetch us some shells for those necklaces you promised…”

“Spiral or clam shells?” Lance asked, already knee-deep and advancing further into the surf with every leaping step.

“Anything shiny!” came Allura’s lilting reply, spoken through a grin. Lance shot off his signature finger guns before disappearing beneath the waves, his fear of octopus aliens all but forgotten.

(He would gladly face a million “sea-squishers” if it meant she kept on smiling like that.) 

 

* * *

 

 

Despite Allura’s protest that he’d brought her plenty of shells, that they had _more than enough_ for two necklaces, it took Lance a solid couple of hours before he was satisfied with their stockpile. Largely because Allura always clapped or gasped or cooed every time he presented her with a new rock or shell, and Lance had become instantly addicted to her praise.

Of course Lance didn't spend that whole time diving. He and Allura would grab snippets of conversation between trips, talking about everything and nothing as she lounged in the sand. More than once Lance was struck by what a gorgeous picture she made like that: her hair loose and wild, hip flanked by a pile of sea treasures, sarong hiked up to her knees so the tide could lap at her feet. Like a mermaid.

(You know, the nice, not brainwash-y kind.)

 

Pausing between dives, Lance looked towards the horizon, admiring the pinky-orange hues that painted the sunset sky. There, just at the highest point, he could see a hint of deep indigo, indicating night would soon be creeping up on them. It was a bittersweet sight. A reminder they would soon leave this place to continue on their trip to Earth.

“You seem happy here,” Allura spoke, drawing his attention back to her. Good thing too, as her skin no less than glowed when bathed with the warm light of a dying day.

“This planet is nice,” Lance said mildly, paddling back towards her. His feet squelched in the wet sand as he reached the shore, plopping himself down beside where Allura sat. His eyes once again found the horizon. “Reminds me of home.”

“Earth is like this?” she asked.

“Some parts are,” he answered with a shrug.

His next words were quiet, wistful.

“The part where I’m from at least...”

For a while, the only sounds were of the waves, punctuated by the distant rustle of palm fronds in the evening breeze.

“I can’t wait to see it,” Allura said at last, almost too soft for him to hear.

Lance smiled, heart pulsing with a number of emotions he couldn’t quite parse at the moment. “I can’t wait to show you.”

Another stretch of quiet fell, though it was far from awkward. Lance dug his toes into the sand and thought about dinner. Allura went back to sorting out her shells. Theirs was a companionable silence.

Until:  

“I almost drowned here once.”

Lance looked up, alarmed. “What, really?”

Allura nodded, still absently sifting through her treasure trove. “Back when I was a child. The tides were especially rough that day, and my parents had told me not to swim too far out, but it didn’t make a difference. The current pulled me in without warning, and no matter how hard I kicked, I couldn’t escape it. I froze. I couldn’t even cry out. I just kicked and kicked until I was too tired to tread water anymore and it pulled me under.”

Allura grew withdrawn, looking out onto the water with something akin to sadness. She shook her head.

“The next thing I remember was sobbing as I coughed water up onto my father’s chest. I haven’t swam since then.”

Lance frowned, also looking out to sea. He could picture it: a tiny Allura, crying and struggling to keep herself afloat before slipping beneath the waves. It wasn’t a nice picture. In fact, it was downright sickening. Stunned silent, he struggled to come up with a response. “Sorry you almost drowned” seemed redundant and insincere. Asking for more details might only further distress her.

“That’s not how you escape a riptide,” Lance blurted, because he was a dazzling conversationalist. Luckily, Allura burst out laughing, dispelling the bulk of his unease.

“Yes, I would suppose not,” she said, wiping at the corner of her eyes. Allura looked at him, expectant.  “Well? What _should_ I have done? For future reference.”

Lance thought for a moment. He'd mostly danced his way through lifeguard training, too preoccupied with how many beach babes he'd be pulling to really pay attention to life saving techniques, but one doesn't live in beach town their whole life without picking up on things like riptide procedure. Hell, there'd been warning signs plastered all across Varadero Beach, displaying diagrams for the uniformed tourists.

“Let’s see,” Lance began, scooting just a hair closer to Allura. For teaching purposes of course. “If you’re a strong swimmer, you could swim parallel to the shore until you break the current, but it’s difficult to pull off without experience."

Allura nodded. “That does make sense."

Lance opened his mouth to continue, but a movement in his periphery vision stopped the words in their tracks. Slowly, almost as if she hadn't meant to, her head came to rest on his shoulder, and Lance had to forcibly stop himself from jumping.

(This was cool. This was fine. Friends did this sort of thing all the time and he was definitely _not_ about to pass out.)

Lance cleared his throat to prevent it from cracking.

"In most cases," he went on, voice miraculously steady given the circumstances, "you should stop resisting altogether and float till you reach the end. It sounds odd, I know, but sometimes it’s better to just let the tide sweep you away. Rip currents can be nasty but they don't last forever, and floating leaves you with plenty of energy to swim back to shore.”

“Thank you Lance.” Her head shifted, turning to glance up at him, and Lance was helpless to resist returning her gaze. “I feel... safer around the water now.”

“Any time,” he said softly, unable to peel his eyes from her face. From the glittering colors that swirled around her irises in a dance he knew was specifically choreographed to trap him there forever. From the full lips he just wanted to-

Lance suddenly grinned, conjuring a bravado he didn’t actually have.

“Of course you could always just yell for me and I’d swoop in and save you no problem," he purred, daring to throw an arm around her shoulder. "Not to toot my own horn, but I’ve got two summers of lifeguard duty under my belt so I’m basically the strongest and bravest swimmer in the galaxy.”

(There, boasting was safe. Boasting always got him a roll of her eyes and a put-upon sigh. At this point he’d even take a sneer. Anything besides that warm, gooey, oh-so-inviting expression of hers.)

...

“You forgot most handsome.”

Lance blinked, vacant. “I _what?_ ”

“When you brag,” Allura clarified, and oh _fuck_ she was definitely wiggling closer. “You always call yourself the strongest, bravest, and most handsome. You forgot handsome this time.”

“So… you agree?” Lance tried, wholly unprepared for what he was supposed to do if Allura _actually responded to his flirting._

This was not an establish part of their repore. Entirely off script. God almighty he was only one man!

Well, if nothing else, his words drew a reaction. Allura’s cheeks bloomed with a deep berry stain that extended to the tips of her ears, and even her blasé shrug couldn’t hide the fact she was chewing on a smile. Lance clung to that reaction like a drowning man clung to an innertube, grasping for a handhold anywhere he could find it.

“Princesssss,” he nudged, both with his words and with the elbow he dug softly against her side. “Are you calling me handsome~?”

Without warning, Allura clamored to her feet, clearing her throat with an unhinged giggle. “You know what? I think I’m ready for that swim now!”

“Really?” Lance questioned, a bit startled by her heel turn. He watched her gaze dart quickly out at the water before dropping back to the ground, conflicted. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Allura said after a breath, nodding resolutely. “I want to do this.”  Her fingers went for the knot at her waist, picking it half way apart before she paused, glancing down at him with just the barest hint of _something_ in her expression. “I just hope you don't mind if I cling to you a bit...”

 _“Feel free to cling to me all you want,”_ is what Lance meant to say next; is what would have been the suave thing to say.

Yet the sounds that left him in that moment could could not be traced back to either of his spoken languages, nor any language he’d encountered in his recent cross-galaxy adventures. He was broken, blubbering, but Lance figured that type of Tower of Babel madness was normal when the love of your life decides to suddenly _strip down right in front of you._

...Alright, so maybe Allura removing her sarong wasn’t _exactly_ considered stripping, but it had a similarly catastrophic effect on him.

The slip of floral fabric fluttered to the sand below as if in slow motion, revealing inch after glorious inch of dark, smooth skin. White in color, Allura’s swim bottoms were reminiscent of a typical bikini- heftier than the string variety, but not by much. It certainly didn’t cover much more than it had to. Which meant everything from ankle to hip was now on magnificent display, and Lance…

Well, Lance was a leg guy. And an Allura guy. And now, apparently, an Allura’s legs guy.

_‘Quiznak.’_

 

_\---_

 

“Lance?” Allura prompted, trying not to squirm under his obvious appraisal. Despite the early evening chill, she suddenly felt feverish, flames licking hot across her newly exposed skin wherever those blue eyes roved.

It was an odd reaction, to say the least. Allura was by no means ashamed of her body, and enjoyed showing it off from time to time. Ancestors, she’d picked out this outfit for the express purpose of flaunting her lesser-flaunted assets! But something in the way Lance looked at her made her feel more divine than she had any right to feel.

More wanted than she could bear.

“ _Hnk_ \- yeah, u-uh coming!” Lance finally managed to choke out, shaking his head to send wisps of dark wet hair flying about his ears. He rose, somewhat unsteadily, to his feet beside her, and gestured out to the sea with a questioning brow. “So how do you want to do this? Just wade out in the shallows? Maybe knee-high? Or go a bit deeper?”

Now that she no longer had ~~stripping~~ _sensually removing her clothes for an audience of one_ to distract her, Allura began to feel the fear creep its way back in, as dark and swirling as the water before her. Perhaps she’d been impulsive to suggest a swim. Stupid, really. All because she was a nearly-grown woman who didn’t know how to handle the feelings Lance’s playful flirtation brought out in her.

His attention… It felt nice. His affection felt _right_. Less like a grand seduction and more like a series of gentle falls. Their relationship, complicated as it was, was simultaneously the easiest and most nerve-wracking thing Allura had ever encountered, and with each passing varga it became increasingly more difficult to remain passive in the face of his advances.

(Mostly because she didn’t want to.)

“Let’s just start slow,” Allura suggested. As much an answer to Lance’s question as it was a reminder to herself.

Lance nodded, advancing towards the water with an indication she should follow. His eyes were now locked firmly on the horizon (aka not her) and Allura childishly missed his gaze. It was unbefitting of her, this need to hold his unwavering attention, but if nothing else that faint lick of jealousy kept her distracted enough to wade out to very depths she swore she'd never swim again. In fact, Allura made it thigh-deep before reality came snapping back into focus, when a soft wave lapping against her hip was enough to send her leaping onto the young man at her side.

“Woah, you okay there?” Lance asked, seeming remarkably unphased for someone who’d just been more or less _climbed_ by another full-size person. Perhaps it was the training he spoke of? Guarding lives?

“I’m fine!” Allura gasped, trailing into an unhinged sort of giggle. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply for three ticks, willing her pulse back down and building the courage to remove her death grip on Lance’s… well… _everything._

“You sure about that?” Lance asked, skeptical.

(Justifiably so, since she was still doing her best impression of a particularly clingy sea-squisher.)

“Positive,” Allura assured him, letting his presence eclipse the panic still bubbling deep in her stomach.

_She wasn’t a child any more. She wasn’t helpless. She was safe with him._

A moment passed before Allura found the wherewithal to actually dismount Lance, slinking back into the surf with a dull splash. The water felt cold after his welcome warmth, definitely not as inviting, but not as scary as before. Especially now that the tide had calmed somewhat.

“I’m terribly sorry about that,” she apologized, cheeks coloring at more than just her own cowardice. "I swear I'm not usually this jumpy."

“Psh,” Lance said, blowing the noise through pursed lips. “No problem. In fact..." His eyes grew lidded, brows wiggling deviously in her direction. "...feel free to climb me whenever you’d like~”

Allura managed to work up an scandalized “Lance!”, swallowing a smile as she pressed a hand to her chest in mock affront, and Lance nearly got a chance to go full playboy before another rogue wave sent Allura careening back into crisis mode. This time her assault on him was less climbing and more clinging, her fingers finding purchase against the broad plane of his back and hanging on for dear life as she buried her face into his clavicle.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” she murmured, fear and frustration nearly drowning ( _‘Bad! Bad wording!’_ ) out all other feeling “ _Spirits_ I don't know how you do this.”

“It’s alright,” Lance soothed, and his voice sounded deeper this close. Perhaps because her ear was pressed against his sternum. “Here. How about we just…”

His hands, no longer stagnant, gently repositioned her limbs: legs around his hips, arms around his neck, and chest aligned with his own. This brought their faces level with one another, dangerously, _thrillingly_ close. So close Allura could count the individual freckles that’d sprouted across his cheeks, if she were capable of counting at a moment like this.

“There,” Lance breathed, his eyes tracing the planes of her face as if it were the first time he was seeing it. “How’s that?”

How was it? Magical. Exhilarating. Lance’s hands were on her waist, his shoulders solid beneath her biceps, and Allura was having a hard time remembering the last time she’d had skin-to-skin contact like this. It was almost, _almost_ , too much to take, and Allura was forced to duck aside and set her chin down on his shoulder before she did something truly impulsive.

“Take me out farther?” she requested, voice soft and tenuous.

He nodded. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

Lance took a step, advancing through the surf at a mere snail’s pace in contrast to the way he’d paddled around hours before. The feeling of being submerged, while still somewhat panic-inducing, was much more bearable with a solid body to hold onto, and the sight of the nearby shore calmed her racing heartbeat even as it threatened to beat out of her chest. Still, Allura stiffened as the waterline reached her sternum (more a reaction to the cold on her nipples rather than genuine fear) and Lance stopped immediately.

“Far enough?” he asked, his thumb unknowingly (or perhaps intentionally) stroking along the dip of her waist. Allura couldn't decide whether it was calming or not.

“Far enough."

They stayed there, un-moving besides the gently sway of the tide, for an indeterminate amount of time. Long enough for Allura to release the breath she'd been holding since she'd left dry land and relax into the arms that held her. She found solace in the warm of him, in the heartbeat she felt fluttering beneath his ribs. Lance was truly in his element here, and it was more than bit awe-inspiring to witness. In fact, if Allura didn't know better, she'd almost swear his pulse was synced up to the lapping of waves around them. It made her feel at peace.

After a while, Lance began to drift, not quite swimming but not quite stationary. Allura tightened her grip on pure instinct, but was surprised to find she enjoyed the sensation of cutting though the water. It was almost like dancing. Pinkish-purple light, cast by the retreating suns, marbeled across the mirror-like surface off the sea, only adding to appeal, and before long Allura forgot to be afraid. Her hands left Lance's shoulders to trail down to the water's edge, fingertips hovering precariously above the water before daring to dip below, and the resulting ripples left her entranced

 That is, until masculine laughter broke the spell.

“What?” Allura asked, pulling back so she could examine his face.

Lance was smiling, smirking really. “Look at you. Swimming and whatnot.”

Allura rolled her eyes. “This could hardly be called swimming.”

“You’re in the water aren’t you? That's a really big step after what you went through!”

“I suppose so,” she said, allowing herself a bit of pride. Lance’s smile widened as hers appeared, teeth glinting in stark contrast to his tanned complexion, and that’s when something seemed to snap into place.

Like a switch being thrown, the energy between them changed, charging the air with something heedy and profound. Allura’s fingers moved without her permission, combing up into the hair at the base of Lance's neck and curling in response to the tongue his swiped along his bottom lip. The waves still lapped at them, perhaps even more so than before, but Allura couldn’t feel them. Because Lance was looking at her, gazing at her like she was all he could ever want or need or dream for, and in his eye she saw her own desire reflected right back her.

She’d spent so long fighting this… this _pull._ Not because she didn’t like it or him or _whatever it was_ brewing between them, but because she’d been afraid of where it might take her. It was scary, this sensation. Scary not because it was new but scary because it was familiar. The last time Allura had let herself get swept up like this he-

It.

It had nearly pulled her under.

But Lance wasn’t a riptide. He wasn’t a force beyond her control. Allura could easily stop this if she wanted to, break free of his pull and paddle towards shore. She was strong, stronger than she’d been the last time, and she knew Lance wouldn’t prevent her from swimming away. He’d given her that power, that knowledge to do so, but Allura was tired of treading water against a current she never truly wanted to fight.

His words echoed, sweet and permissive: _“Sometimes it’s better to just let the tide sweep you away.”_

And so, she did.

Lance was the one who finally closed the distance between them, but only when her hands at the nape of his neck urged him to do so. The second before their lips met seemed to stretch a lifetime, years of sidelong glances playing out in slow motion. Nearly shaking with anticipation, Allura gulped down a deep breath, as if bracing herself to dive underwater, but she quickly exhaled when she found the kiss wasn't like drowning at all. Where she’d expected a tsunami, Lance instead delivered a light thunderstorm. Chaste enough to avoid overwhelming her but still passionate enough to get her pulse racing.

He was good at this, she thought. Better than she’d hoped.

And oh, how she had hoped. Against her sense of duty, despite the war the swirled around them, Allura had hoped and dreamed and maybe (maybe) even fantasized about this more than she’d care to admit, and she was pleased to find the reality was much better than the fiction. It didn’t matter that his lips were salty, their bodies were wracked with goosebumps, and her hair stuck plastered to the back of her neck. For once Allura was doing something that made her feel happy. Perhaps, if she could be so wistful, even _loved_ …

Lance grinned against her mouth, never breaking their kiss as he twirled them around in utter glee.

...Yes, definitely loved.

In the end, it was a particularly rough wave that forced them apart. Able to feel the crest long before it reached them, Lance tightened his grip on her waist, but even he couldn’t keep his feet planted as the water rushed past. Distantly, beneath her euphoria, Allura felt the familiar sensation of being pushed away and _under_ , yet the fear didn’t come. There was no struggle, no panic welling in her gut. She simply went pliant, letting the current sweep her along as she focused on keeping her head above water, and it wasn’t three second later that an arm snagged around her waist.

“I got ya,” Lance gasped, hauling her back against to his chest. “You’re…”

He trailed off, shaking his head as if the words he wanted to tell her didn’t exist yet. As if her very presence struck him mute.

Allura giggled, half in response to his positively awe-struck appearance and half a result of her own lingering butterflies. The scale tipped heavily in the butterflies favor when Lance tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, letting his knuckles trail along her cheek as he did so. His moves were slow, tentative, as if he still didn’t know whether or not he was allowed to touch her like this, and Allura kissed his shaking fingertips to assure him this was all so very wanted.

“Can we do this again when we get to Earth?” she asked, softly, knowing her fears were getting the better of her but _needing_ a clear indication that this wasn’t some sort of… conquest.

(That wasn’t him. She knew it wasn’t. Lance would never, _could never_ pursue her for anything but love. But old wounds were slow to heal, and hers had just begun to close up.)

It seemed to take Lance a moment to process her words, but once he did so there was no stopping his smile. It was infectious, giddy, and Allura’s cheeks stung with how fast she mirrored the expression.

“Yes! Hell yes! Of course!” Lance exclaimed, looking at her as if he couldn't quite believe this was all real. “We can do this whenever you want!”

Again, he spun them in the water, raising little sprays that danced around them. Then he did it a third time. And a fourth. And-

Mid-twirl, Lance suddenly stilled.

“Wait... you did mean the kissing part right? Not the swimming?”

Against all odds, Allura managed to put on a grim expression. She held it together for all of three seconds, watching Lance’s cheeks drain of all color, before she finally cracked. He sputtered as she splashed a handful of water at his face, and she shrieked as he retaliated by dunking her whole body under, delighting in the way he paled when he realized what he'd just done. Allura ignored his string of apologies, instead planting her feet in the sand below and launching herself through the water as if she hadn't just moments ago been terrified of the prospect of leaving shore. Bobbing up from where he'd been tackled, Lance's eyes grew wide at her newfound bravery, then narrowed in challenge.

_'_ _Uh-oh.'_

He wound up his own tackle, aiming for a now trash-talking Allura, and it wasn't long before they’d devolved into a full on wrestling match right there in the ocean.

Lance played dirty, abusing his ability to swim underwater by launching sneak attacks on Allura’s ankles, but she found her own ways to retaliate. Every time Lance popped back up for air she’d be ready with a splash of her own, and when he’d learned to dodge even that, she got trickier. Next time he disappeared beneath the orange-streak surface of the sea, Allura bided her time, extending her senses outward to feel the water around her.

_‘Steady… Steady…’_

A errant ripple caught her eye.

_‘Gotcha!’_

She pinpointed Lance’s position a split second before he broke above the waves, and was able to tackle him before he got his own attack in. Surprised, he almost toppled back with the force, but managed to plant to his feet just in time for Allura to wrap her legs around his waist, twine her arms around the back of his neck, and bring her mouth to his. It was a bit clumsy at first, what with it being a surprise kiss, but the two quickly fell back into a comfortable rhythm that suited them both.

Allura hummed, Lance sighed, and everything felt right.

This time, it was a loud whistle from the shore that ended the kiss. The two broke apart to find Hunk and Pidge both whooping from the edge of the water, smacking obnoxious air kisses and telling them to get a room. All across the beach, other faces were turning towards the commotion, then locking on the pair as they bobbed along in each other’s embrace. Most of the expressions were unreadable from this distance, but Allura distinctly caught a thumbs up from Romelle, and her face heated at the realization they'd just put on quite the show for their friends.

At a second whistle, Lance’s face soured.

"Mind their own quiznaking business!" he yelled, extending one hand up with only his middle finger raised. Allura was not familiar with the gesture, it merely made Hunk and Pidge laugh all the more.

“Damn voyeurs,” Lance grumbled, turning back to face her. His forehead pressed intimately against her own, his thumbs toying absently with the ties fasted at her hips, and it was all very distracting.

“They have a point you know,” Allura murmured, her lips still buzzing from their kiss and her body still very aware of the warm, leanly-muscled form pressed against her.

(Some parts more far more _aware_ than others.)

Lance blinked away his irritation, raising a brow. “A point?”

Allura nodded, tucking her cheek against his and whispering into those hideously adorable ears of his. Her voice was low. “About getting a room…”

...

One second passed.

Then two.

And on the third second Lance was no less than _sprinting_ towards shore, hauling a flushed but laughing Princess alongside him. He was a sheer force of nature, ignoring the current as he pounded his way onto the beach, and for a moment Allura thought perhaps she’d been wrong before. Perhaps Lance really was a riptide, pulling her along in his own reckless path.

But then he was placing her feet down on the solid sand beside him, the sea in his eyes tossing with unbridled excitement and his hand held out as if to say “lead the way”, and Allura knew she would never not want to be caught up in his pull.

**Author's Note:**

> lets be real though,,, if I had allura straddling my hips, telling me we should get a room, I would develop Jesus-like powers and sprint across that motherfucking ocean. smash that kudos button if you would too


End file.
